OBEE
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: It is twenty years after the end of the Witch War and the defeat of Salem at the hands of Ruby Rose. As events elsewhere in the world begin to take their dark shape, in the distant land of Vacuo a group of young hunters and huntresses come together to face their own trials - little knowing the perils that await. Companion piece to RoyalPsycho's GRAP, future AU for the show.
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone. This is the first story I've posted on here in... well, yonks, really. It's also the first story I've done for the RWBY fandom, so... wow. Lots of firsts.**

 **This story is a spinoff of RoyalPsycho's _GRAP_ , set in the same future in a different part of the world of Remnant, and is done with his support and permission. I'd heartily recommend reading his work, as it's a really nice potential version of the show's future.**

 **Hope you enjoy this one, guys :-)**

* * *

 **OBEE**

 **Volume 1**

 **Prologue**

* * *

 **August 5th, 1460 of the Vytali Calendar.**

 **Temple of the Revanchists. Vacuo.**

Two men stood on a balcony overlooking an arena space, watching their prized student as he practiced his katas.

The first man - easily well into his sixties, with long greying hair and a thick goatee - watched with a neutral expression, hands folded behind his back. He wore a simple light brown kimono and dark brown slacks, brown boots finishing the ensemble. Girt at his side was the hilt of an extendable katana, the metal tinted green.

The other man wore black armour, matched by a black cloak. The man's face was clean shaven and scarred, his hair long and unkempt. His expression was colder and harsher, his arms folded as he observed the student's movements.

The student was a young man, maybe eighteen, who moved with fluid grace as he spun his own weapon - a katana nearly identical to the oldest man's save for its blue hue. He wore similar clothes to the oldest man: his kimono a slightly warmer shade of brown, perhaps, set off by a pair of bracers and a set of shoulder-armour. His short, reddish brown hair was cut neatly. His katas were not complex, and yet he would move from one to the next with speed, precision and an almost preternatural grace, his expression remaining calm, focused, controlled. He was moving through the spacious arena as though he were carving through a host of imagined foes.

"So," the older man said to his armoured compatriot. "Do you think he's ready?"

The armoured man snorted. "Can't tell with just katas. Good in theory is one thing. Good in practice is something else."

The older man smiled. "I couldn't agree more."

He raised a hand, and there was a clanking sound from deep in the temple. The student paused in his katas, spinning his katana once before holding it at rest, his gaze turning upwards to look at his observers with a questioning expression. Neither man gave anything away.

On the far wall of the arena space, a door slowly opened, parting from the ground and rising, to reveal armoured boots. Slowly, a group of armoured training robots, bone white and skeletal, marched into the room, their blank face-masks impassive as they advanced, raising their own swords.

The armoured man snorted. "Hardly a challenge."

The droids advanced methodically, spreading out according to prearranged patterns, raising their weapons into perfect imitations of classical fighting stances. The student brought his own blade up one handed, pulled back, the other hand extended forward in challenge. As one, they charged - and the student moved too. He blocked the first strike, a heavy overhand from the nearest robot, before kicking at the droid's legs, knocking it off balance, and then spinning to deliver a kick that sent it crashing into two more training robots. He gave a small, confident smile as two more of the robots advanced, and with one sweep, he cut them both in two, before dashing forwards. He jumped, landing one-footed on another droid's head, before bounding off, sending the thing crashing to the ground as he brought his blade to meet yet another robot's blade, before disarming and beheading the thing.

And yet, the armoured man looked unimpressed. "Is this the only challenge you have for him to face?"

"Keep watching," the older man said with a soft smile.

There was a growling from the depths of the chamber the droids had emerged from. As the student beheaded the last droid, he turned to look at the doorway… as a large, felinoid creature emerged, growling at him. It was jet black, highlighted in reds and whites.

It was a Rui-Shi, a lion Grimm. It's body was massive and covered in bone white armour plates that extended along its spine and down its ribs and shoulders. A thick mine of sharp, white hair surrounded its neck, flexing and extending as the creature breathed. Covering the Grimm's massive head was a huge armoured mask that was crossed, occasionally, be blood red lines. In it's eyes was a look of hunger and hatred as it locked its gaze onto the student.

The armoured man's arms uncrossed. "A… a Rui-Shi? You're serious?"

The older man said nothing, his expression not changing.

The student stepped back, reassessing his position, bringing his blade back into a guard stance, his hand extended outward more in warding now. The creature approached him slowly, growling menacingly.

And then it pounced towards him. At the same time, he bent his knees and bounded upwards, high above its head. His free hand twitched, and the blades of the defeated droids twitched, before floating upwards and then bounding towards the Rui Shi, slamming into it and impaling it in a half dozen places. With a scream of agony, it paused in its advance, only for the student, still airborne, to spin once, twice, three times in the air, before coming down, his blade meeting the creature's neck and slicing through the thick quills of it's mane.

There was a moment of silence, and then the Rui-Shi fell to the ground in two pieces, disintegrating into nothingness. The student held out his blade, the blue katana retracting into the hilt. He attached the hilt to his belt, before looking up at the two men. The older man looked down, before nodding at him, and the student, bowing gratefully, retrieving a dark brown cloak from a nearby bench.

"Impressive," the armoured man said quietly as the student left the hall. "Most impressive. Only a young one but still." He paused. "He's mastered the form."

"Indeed," the older man said quietly. "I suspect there is little we can do now to prepare him further for his destiny. Now, he needs only complete his final years of training."

"There's the trick," the armoured man said with a snort. "It's one thing to master a training ground, another to master life."

"Indeed," the older man said with a wry smile. "And yet I sense he will _become_ a master."

* * *

 **August 12th, 1460 of the Vytali Calendar.**

 **The Hut, Vacuo City.**

The Hut was not known for being the most hospitable bar in the city. Actually, it was known for being the exact opposite most of the time - the owners were not friendly at the best of times, quick to have anyone they disapproved of roughed up… or worse.

Like most Vacuite buildings it had started out as a temporary shelter that the owner had tried to make more stable once it was clear he wasn't going to be packing it up and moving it again. Wooden walls, still left unpainted after so many years, were now propped up struts of stronger wood and steel and trophies and other items - the less valuable ones anyway - had been hung on them.

Across from the swing doors that led into the building was the bar itself, a long slab of reinforced wood. The owner had paid a large expense to import the rare hard wood that would protect him in the event of a fight breaking out. It was lined with empty glasses that a man was hurriedly, picking up, cleaning and then placing behind the cover of the bar to keep them safe and unbroken.

A boy of about eighteen was sitting at the bar, a smirk on his face as he downed a blue drink of questionable origin but definite alcoholic content. He wore a white shirt, open at the collar, under a black vest. This was set off by a pair of rugged blue military trousers, emblazoned with blood red stripes that ran down either side, and high black engineer boots. At his hips a pistol was holstered. He seemed entirely unconcerned

"Hey Juan," someone said from behind him. "What are you doin' back here?"

The boy didn't turn from his drink. "What's it to ya, Greene?"

"The boss gave specific instructions," the voice said. "If Ben Juan shows up, and he doesn't have the money he owes the house, the house breaks his legs."

The boy - Ben Juan - turned in his chair to face Greene. He was a short, ugly, wiry man, dressed in an unflattering brown jacket and yellow shirt, a hand on his holstered pistol.

"So, you want to - uh, "break my legs"?" Juan asked.

"That'd be the gist," Greene said with a smirk. "Been lookin' forward to this."

Juan smirked right back. "Yes, I'll bet you have."

Suddenly his pistol was out, aimed right at Greene's face, and then the man was thrown backwards, smarting from the impact. His aura had protected him from the worst, but he was still knocked flat on his back.

Juan brought his pistol up, moving to a ready stance, as the various other members of the Hut's staff moved to surround him, aiming their guns. Juan snorted.

"C'mon, guys, seriously?" he asked. "You'd think you'd know better."

"He's just some punk kid!" Greene snarled from the floor as he got up, drawing his own pistol. "Break him in two!"

"Lovin' the lyricism, boys," Juan said, as he moved forward.

Though every single goon started firing at once, Juan never seemed to get even hit. He dodged, ducked and weaved through lines of fire, his own pistol moving first left, then right, then back again, the high-powered rounds of the weapon blasting goons off their feet at every turn. He ducked, weaved, jumped and leapt, never letting a single blow get to him.

After a few moments, it was over. The goons were all stirring feebly, their auras depleted, many of them bruised and battered. Greene was the only one left standing.

"You…" the angry mob enforcer snarled. "You little _shi-!"_

A final bullet slammed into his chest, deleting his aura and knocking him backwards into a table. He hit his head, falling to the floor unconscious.

"Language, Greene," Juan said idly. He tossed a coin to the bartender, who had popped his head up as soon as the shooting stopped, a fearful look on his face. "Sorry about the mess."

Juan turned and walked out, leaving the bar in disarray.

* * *

 **August 15th, 1460 of the Vytali Calendar.**

 **The Hut, Vacuo City.**

Of course it was predictable that a few days later, a young man in loose white clothing would find himself at that same bar. His clothes, combined with his sandy blonde hair and open expression, made him look for all the world like a rabbit transfixed in headlights as he walked into the bar.

When he approached the bar, the bartender looked up.

"What'll it be?" he asked shortly.

"Uh… vodka and coke?" the boy said with a nervous smile. "Uh, please."

The bartender rolled his eyes. "Sure thing."

The boy kept smiling, trying not to feel too nervous. The bar was definitely seedier than he had been expected - he could see people smoking in some of the corners, some people talking and looking at others with dark expressions. Maybe it was his imagination, but some of those dark expressions seemed like they were definitely pointed his way.

"Hey, kid," a voice said from next to him. He turned to his left, to see a man in an orange shirt scowling at him. "You new around here?"

"Er, yeah…" the boy said nervously.

The man snorted. "What makes you think you can just _come in_ here?"

"There wasn't a bouncer on the door," the boy said innocently, pointing back at the unguarded entrance. "I figured it wasn't a private clubhouse…"

He trailed off at the man's expression: it hardly looked inviting.

"Maybe I'm not being clear," the man said. "You. Aren"t. Welcome. Here."

The boy swallowed. "Right… well, I guess I'll…"

"Go?" the man finished. "Oh, I don't think so." He stood up and shoved the boy, who stumbled off of his chair with a shocked expression. "We don't like people comin' in here uninvited."

"I… I won't do it again," the boy said, almost timidly.

"No, you won't," the man agreed, drawing a knife. "You'll be dead!"

In a flash, the boy brought up a gun from his belt, the weapon discharging loudly. The man was knocked backwards, and the boy scrambled away from the bar, aiming his gun at the man, before moving his aim rapidly from one to another patron as several of them turned to regard him with scowls and other unpleasant expressions.

"Look," he said, "I don't want any trouble."

The man growled, before motioning. A half dozen others charged at the boy, who quickly fired at each of them, knocking them all off balance in turn, before taking a few more steps back, gun still held up.

"I mean it!" he said. "Stay back!"

They didn't, instead getting back on balance and rushing at him. The boy sighed, before shifting his grip on the gun. Suddenly it extended outward into a shining silver-blue sword, and with a quick succession of moves he had knocked each of his assailants off balance once again. He moved quickly, darting from one to another, lashing out with quick, precise movements. One man brought a table leg to the fight, but the boy blocked it. With a gulp, he pushed the man back, before lashing out with two quick strikes that broke the makeshift weapon in half before sending the man spinning off into a set of tables. This, unfortunately, only had the effect of angering even more of the patrons, who charged at the boy in turn.

With a grimace, he brought his weapon up and switched it back to its gun configuration, moving it hither and thither, shooting more and more of his enemies off their feet. With a sudden burst of energy, he bounded up, leaping over the heads of several of the attackers, before extending his sword again. They kept coming, but this time he was in a more favourable position. He blocked one strike, then another, then another, all the while lashing out with blows that knocked his attackers out or back, sending them reeling to the floor.

And then, suddenly, it was over. His assailants were all groaning on the floor, and he found himself breathing a sigh of relief. He stepped back, before jogging for the exit, the eyes of almost every other patron in the bar burning his back as he did.

The man who had started the mess groaned as he tried to push himself to his feet - in an attempt to give chase or simply to stand up, it wasn't clear. He wobbled listlessly as he tried to prop himself up with his arms. A hand placed itself on his shoulder, and he turned, groggily, to see a young, auburn haired man in a brown obi staring down at him with a friendly, neutral expression.

"That one isn't worth your effort, I think," the newcomer said politely.

The man simply groaned and fell back to the floor. The newcomer folded his arms and stared after the young man, a thoughtful expression on his face.

* * *

 **August 24th, 1460 of the Vytali Calendar.**

 **Vacuo City.**

A girl was running down one of the ramshackle alleyways of Vacuo City, a grin on her face. She was clad in what might have been a skimpy white dress, her hair done up in a stylish double-flower do that had taken far longer to do than was strictly necessary and her face covered by a domino mask.

"Hey!" a voice called from behind her. "Stop right there!"

She snorted. _As if._

She stopped, before leaping up, climbing up towards the roof of the dingy buildings. She could hear the frustrated shouts of her pursuers, and grinned. She _lived_ for this!

She landed neatly on the roof, before taking a breath, feeling the rush of her exhilaration fading somewhat.

"Hey, you!" a voice called. She turned, to see a group of soldiers in white armour aiming their guns at her from the opposite rooftop.

The Guard Troopers were a relatively recent political addition to Vacuo - the military's Supreme Patriarch, Nox Skye, had brought many innovations after his return from the war, all those years ago. These men in their Atlas-inspired armour were one of the more… aggravating ones. The girl snorted.

"Heya boys," she said, turning to face them. "How's your evening going?"

"Surrender, or face the consequences!" the leader of the group of Guard Troopers called. "We are authorised to use all necessary force!"

"Funny," the girl said, her hand twitching towards a small cylinder at her belt. "I was about to say the same thing."

She brought the cylinder up as the Guard Troopers fired, the ends extending outwards, one end tipped with a sharp spearhead, and the other ending in a counterweight. she spun the spear, the bullets deflected by the sturdy metal construct. With a grin, she spun the weapon into an aim, the spear-tip suddenly revealing a small hole. With a grin, she pressed a control in the centre of the spear, a hail of high-powered rounds lashing out, smashing into masonry and throwing the Troopers off balance. With the Troopers distracted, she turned and ran in the opposite direction - only for a dark, armoured figure to appear, a long katana extended towards her in challenge.

This was no ordinary trooper, or even an ordinary huntsman. This was Nox Skye, Supreme Patriarch of the Guard, finest warrior in Vacuo.

"Ah, shi-!" she exclaimed, before blocking the figure's first strike. She found herself staring up at the figure's mask, a frightening visage designed to intimidate its opponents.

"Hi," she said blithely, before shoving the figure backwards.

With a blistering hail of moves, she lashed out, forcing the figure back on the defensive. The figure gave a growl of frustration, before lashing out at her again, forcing her to somersault backwards.

"Great," she muttered. "Party's dying already."

With a grimace, she turned and ran back in the direction of the Troopers, some of whom had managed to leap over to her side of the alleyway. With a careless cartwheel, she dodged between them, before spinning on her head, her legs flailing and knocking two of the Troopers to the ground. She came out of her spin and blocked one man's attempt to hit her with a baton, before she grabbed him and threw him in the direction of the advancing Skye.

" **Enough of this!"** the man called, his voice deep and menacing, augmented by the mask.

She turned and threw him a quick, ironic salute, before leaping across the alleyway into the other group of Troopers. With a quick spin of her spear, she had sent at least half the small group careening around the rooftop, one man falling over the edge. She almost turned to try and catch him, only to see him dangling by his foot, the armoured figure's hand outstretched and holding him in a telekinetic grip.

The girl winked. "Not bad, old man. Catch you later!"

She moved to go, only to hear a sudden grunt of effort. With a slam, she suddenly stopped as the armoured figure landed in front of her, his blade once more extended outward in challenge.

" **I don't think so,** " Nox Skye said, sounding irritated. " **You're going to surrender now.** "

She growled, before stabbing forward with her spear. The man parried the blow, before bringing his blade down in an overhead strike that she dodged backwards to avoid. She aimed the spear, before firing at him, but he simply blocked the shots with his sword.

"I wasn't doing anything worth all of _this_ ," she said with a scowl. "I don't know why you guys won't just leave me alone!"

" **You know full well why,"** Skye said, bringing his sword up and lashing out, managing to disarm her. She moved to go for her weapon, only to feel his telekinesis grab her and hoist her into the air. She grimaced as the domino mask slipped from her face, revealing brown eyes and a furious expression.

"Father," she said, surprisingly evenly given the discomfort she felt.

" **Elena,"** Nox replied tiredly. " **This is the** _ **third**_ **time this month. Why do you insist on coming to the restricted zones after curfew times?"**

"Quality bonding time?" Elena Skye suggested. "I mean, this is the most I've seen of you in six weeks."

" **If you wanted to spar,"** her father said with dry humour, " **you could have just asked."**

"Yeah, but this is more fun," Elena said with a grin.

She felt herself drop, and groaned as the Troopers approached her, their weapons aimed at her again.

" **You've always been too much of a rebel for your own good,"** her father told her evenly. " **Too much of** _ **me**_ **in you** **, perhaps. Still, a night in the cells will do you some good."**

Elena scowled. "You're kidding."

" **I'm afraid not,"** Nox said. He motioned to the Guard Troopers. " **Take her away."**

The Troopers grabbed Elena by the arms and hoisted her, before leading her off.

" **Oh by the way, Elena,"** Nox added, and the Troopers paused, allowing Elena to look back at her father. " **Good form. I'm proud of you."**

Elena gave a smirk. "Yeah, thanks Dad. Really feels it."

Nox didn't reply. He motioned, and the Troopers took Elena away.

 _Still,_ she thought as they led her to an airship. _Totally worth it._


	2. Chapter One

**With thanks to RoyalPsycho for his assistance on this chapter.**

* * *

 **OBEE**

 **Volume 1**

 **Chapter One: Arrival.**

* * *

 **September 4th, 1460 of the Vytali Calendar.**

 **Shade Academy, Vacuo.**

The warrior knelt in his sleeping cell, checking his gear over once, then again. His sword, as always, was closed up and attached to his belt, an extension of himself. His armour he didn't bother with - he had no anticipation of entering a hostile situation today, so he doubted he needed it.

He paused. _One should always expect to enter a hostile situation_ , one of his mentors always stressed.

 _But,_ one of his other teachers would always add, _armour has its limitations, and not just from a fighting perspective. True skill requires none, for the skill itself becomes your armour._

The warrior sniffed thoughtfully. Contradictions, always contradictions. How to resolve them, he wondered…

He left the shoulder armour off. It was an unnecessary hindrance. But he placed his wrist armour on, carefully adjusting the straps. He knelt once again, this time in prayer.

"I am one with the universe," he said quietly. "But a single component in the larger scheme, but a single speck on a single speck. All things are in accordance with how they are intended. All is as the universe wills it. And I fear nothing."

 _If only saying it made it true._

* * *

There were many things one more familiar with the academies in Vale or Atlas might have found strange about Shade Academy. First of which was the overt iconography - the symbol of the embossed 8, the mark of the Revanchists and their belief in the infinite universe and its power over all life… a mark also visible on the masks of the many Revanchist Guards that patrolled the Academy, their hooded and cloaked forms at once unnerving and reassuring (depending entirely on what you thought of them).

The building itself was huge - a colourful, stepped ziggurat that towered over the whitewashed structures of Vacuo City's Upper Residential District. The immense school rose in four beautifully crafted tiers that were crowned by a central tower that rose out of the highest, and smallest, level. The edges of each level were lined by triangular crenellations, giving Shade an ancient and militant pedigree that matched its huge size. There were, however, some signs of a more peaceful decoration. Every level held small gardens that were either situated within the outer galleries of each wall or hung from them in long irrigated balconies.

Dominating the centre of the lowest level was the main gateway, a huge imposing portal that was ringed by frescos painted onto the blue, stone walls, depicting brave warriors battling terrifying reconstructions of Grimm beasts. The carvings and paintings were bordered by thin bands of gold that contrasted the lines and creases in the portraits and added to the ostentatious and regal structure. Crowning the gate was the Revanchist mark, one of the few reminders of the school's origins. In front of it all was a wide moat formed from the river that flowed through the city and provided the metropolis with much of its water. Flanking either end of the bridge of that connected Shade to the city around it were two statues of men in formal robes, their faces concealed in closed helms and long pikes in their hands, crossing over the centre of the bridge. It was the place where many of the greatest heroes of Vacuo had been trained, and it looked the part.

All of this, of course, was extra nerve-wracking for Edmund Skye as he stood in the group of new students that had just arrived here, feeling ill-at-ease even in his customary loose white training clothes, a dark grey poncho tossed lazily over the outfit. The courtyard was green and pleasant, but the statues of ancient Revanchist heroes - including the man himself - added a sense of what Edmund could only think of as _responsibility_ , or maybe _heritage_ , to the place. As though there was a sense of expectation attached to even _standing_ there.

"Chill out," came the voice of his sister Elena from next to him. He threw her a glance, her brown eyes twinkling with mirth from her round face, her stance altogether looser than his own (though that might have been the flowing material of her white dress). "You look like you've rammed Peacemaker up your ass."

"That," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster, "is the _worst_ mental image."

"Really? Damn, you're easy to freak out," she snorted. "Don't worry so much."

"How do you know I'm worried?"

"I've known you all our lives," his sister pointed out. "You _always_ worry."

"I do not," he said.

"You do," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. "You worry about Dad, you worry about me, you worry about _everything_. I'm half surprised you didn't pee your pants that time you saw him talking to R-"

"I do _not_ 'pee my pants'," Edmund hissed in a sibilant whisper, cutting his sister of.

"Good to know," a cheerful voice said from behind the two.

Edmund and Elena turned, to see a tanned boy about a year older than the pair of them smirking at the two of them. His hair was dark, and he wore a loose, open-necked white shirt under a black vest.

"That was a private conversation," Elena said with a scowl.

"Uh huh," the boy said with a snort. "Private between me, you, and probably half the other guys here."

A couple of other new students looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. Elena scowled.

"Who are you, anyway?" she asked.

"Ben Juan," the boy replied with a smirk. "You two?"

"Elena Walker," Elena said easily. "This is my brother, Edmund."

Edmund's expression was unreadable. The pseudonym 'Walker' was one their father had chosen for them.

"Nice to meetcha," Juan said with a wink.

"Excuse me," a girl in a black dress said from next to them, her voice prim and proper. "Can we please concentrate?"

Juan raised an eyebrow. "What on? The glorious standing around doing nothing we're all doing?"

"If you paid attention, you'd see we're _not_ 'standing around doing nothing'," the girl said haughtily. She pointed ahead at a pair of figures talking. "We're _waiting_."

The two figures were standing quite far from the group of new students. One was a very old man in a tweed jacket, his hands clutching a walking stick tightly. The other was a man in a tan obi and brown cloak, a goatee on his face and long hair tied back.

"That's the head, right?" Juan asked quietly, a frown on his face.

The girl in the black dress snorted. "Yes, that's the head."

Juan smirked. "Great - we can finally get this show on the road."

Elena and Edmund shared a glance. Edmund couldn't help but find something admirable in the way Ben Juan was nonchalant - it was a kind of coolness he himself had often lacked. He still felt overwhelmed, despite (or perhaps _because_ of) Elena's words.

The headmaster finished his conversation with the older man, who began walking back to the main building. That done, he turned and walked towards the students. Edmund could hear several of the students take deep breaths, as though they too were battling nerves, and he couldn't help but feel a _little_ better about his own worrying.

"Greetings students," the headmaster said quietly as he reached them. "For those of you who came up through the grades to this point, welcome to your first day as senior students. For those of you who _haven't_ been here for all of those years, my name is Quinn Kane. I am the Headmaster of Shade Academy - for the next four years, you will be under mine and my colleagues' tutelage." He smiled. "Some of you may, thanks to your previous experiences here, be somewhat familiar with Shade and its… eccentricities. For those of you who are not, we will begin with a small tour of the school in order to acclimatise you. I hope our old hands will not begrudge us a little wander around."

"When do we get to meet Nox Skye?!" someone called out.

There was an embarrassed hush, and then whispers broke out. Where _was_ Nox Skye? Everyone knew that he worked here, at least some of the time.

Quinn smiled patiently. "Nox Skye is only ever a guest lecturer at the academy. As you should know, he has _many_ responsibilities for our nation. And if I may be so bold, if you have only come here in the hopes of meeting a war hero, I would have recommended Beacon Academy instead. Jaune Arc is the headmaster there, and it would be fair to say that he is far more personable than Patriarch Skye."

"Ain't that the truth," Elena muttered, too quietly for anyone but Edmund to hear. He threw her a look, but she simply smirked at him.

"Nonetheless, I am certain that you will have the opportunity to witness Patriarch Skye in action during your time here," the headmaster continued, still smiling. "He takes his duties here as seriously as his duties anywhere else." He motioned. "Shall we?"

 _Wish that were true,_ Edmund thought to himself.

"Well, this is going to be fun," Juan drawled from behind Elena and Edmund. The latter couldn't help but agree with the sarcasm - he couldn't help but have a strange, indescribable _bad feeling_ about all of this…

* * *

The rooms were very old fashioned on first impression. They were all large, with stone walls that occasionally had obviously replicated tapestries hung on them. Overhead, more familiar light fixtures lit the rooms whilst thin curtains covered the wide windows, dimming the bright light of the sun but allowing the heat to escape as well. Orderly rows of low-hung desks led up to the other end of the classroom with cushioned rolls behind them for the students to kneel on. At the other end was a larger desk with a tall, high-backed chair behind it.

A closer glance eventually revealed the more modern equipment that had been carefully added to the room. Holographic projectors were situated on plinths in front of the desks and the the surfaces of each desk had a power port for people to plug electronic items into to recharge them. All of these features were hidden away to preserve the archaic aesthetic that the architects of the room had tried to maintain.

The strangest thing that Edmund noticed was the fact that the halls were occasionally patrolled by small groups of warriors, in ones or twos, clad in golden robes and wearing masks that concealed their faces. Edmund found them unnerving - they were utterly silent as they passed.

"Who are _those_ guys?" Juan asked.

"Revanchist warriors," the girl in the black dress said. "Shade began as a Revanchist monastery before it became a Huntsman academy. They still have a token group guarding the place."

"Huh, great," Juan muttered.

There were other strange things: statues of figures in similar armour to the Revanchists, or display cases with ancient suits of armour or weapons displayed, little labels attached to the displays, detailing the former owners of the weapons and giving a summary of their deeds. Some even came with images.

The most recent was the battered armour of Dew Gayl, a lapsed Revanchist who had fought in the Witch War, represented Shade in the Vytal tournament, and had died in battle alongside Nox Skye. Edmund and Elena both stopped, looking at the armour for a moment as a representation of their history - both their cultural history, but also their permanent one.

 _He never talks about the war_ , Edmund thought to himself.

The final stop on the tour was the strangest, however. The group came to a large, sparsely decorated hall, one that looked like it had been carved from stone. There was a single statue in the room - a large, imposing figure, clad in a very old version of the Revanchist armour, more archaic than the figures who had been wandering about. His mask was all covering, a single t-visor in the centre of it, and over this was worn a long, hooded cloak that the sculptor had made look as though it was flowing behind the figure. The statue held a long, elegant sword in one hand, held behind him, and his other hand was extended forward, in challenge to some unseen enemy.

"And this," Quinn said quietly, "is the hall of the Revanchist."

There was a hushed silence. Elena and Edmund shared a glance. Quinn looked up at the statue briefly, before turning back to the group, his expression unreadable.

"Anyone who wishes may pay their respects in this hall now," he said quietly. "The rest of you are free to go where you will within the school, including to your temporary sleeping cells - tomorrow, we will meet in the Valley of Death, where you will begin your initiation and be paired with your partners and teams."

He left the room. At once, several of the students - including a young man with reddish-brown hair, dressed in similar clothes to the headmaster, as well as another boy, dark skinned and shaven headed - went to the foot of the statue, before kneeling, bringing their weapons out.

"Great," Juan muttered from behind Elena and Edmund. "Just what I needed."

Edmund turned and frowned at the older boy. "They can believe what they want. I don't see how it affects you."

The boy frowned. "Hokey religions don't kill Grimm. Weapons kill Grimm. This is an _academy_ for learning how to kill Grimm and be a Huntsman, not for learning to bow to a statue. If I wanted that -"

"If you didn't want to come to a faith school, there are plenty of other academies," Elena pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"Outside of Vacuo, sure," Juan said with a snort. "But I'm _not_ leaving Vacuo."

"Why not?" Edmund asked.

The boy narrowed his eyes at him. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

He turned and walked away before either of the twins could say anything else, leaving them both on their own. Elena sighed.

"That is a strange boy," she commented dryly. "I can't decide if he's got a stick rammed up his ass or whether he _needs_ one ramming up his ass."

Edmund scowled. "Seriously. What is it with you, sticks and people's asses?"

"Was that the wrong time to walk past that conversation?" the voice of the girl from earlier asked, her expression somewhere between distaste and amusement. "Sorry, I just realised I didn't introduce myself earlier." She held out a hand. "Serena Lumina. A pleasure to meet you."

"Elena Walker," Elena said. "This is -"

"Edmund," the girl said. "Yes, I heard before. You're both new?"

"We've been home-educated for most of our lives," Edmund said quietly. "This is the first time we've really been in an institute like this."

"You're twins?" Serena asked.

"That's right," Edmund said with a smile. He looked around. "I guess you've been here a while?"

"I did my foundation training here, yes," Serena said with a smile. She motioned to the statue. "Even got into the Revanchist faith, a little. I'm nowhere near as dedicated as _some_ of the people in my class, but -" She stopped, before shrugging, "It's really more of a philosophy, anyway."

Elena shrugged. "I never heard much about it. Can't really say I ever understood it."

"I always kinda wanted to," Edmund admitted. "You hear the occasional thing about the Revanchists, but…"

He trailed off.

"Well, I'm not really the best person to tell you," Serena admitted. "I guess you _could_ ask the Mace, but he's… cranky. The headmaster knows a bit about it." She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Or you _could_ ask one of the guards, but they tend to be a little… also cranky."

"Is there anyone we could ask who _isn't_ cranky?" Elena asked with a less-than-enthusiastic expression.

"Therein lies a question," Serena said with a small, apologetic smile. She looked up. "If you'll excuse me - I should probably go talk to the Mace."

She moved past them, heading for the shaven headed boy, who had stood up.

"That's a shame," Edmund said quietly. "I was actually kind of interested in learning."

Elena snorted. "Can't say it's something that bothered me much. Respect's one thing, but you don't have to know about it to respect it."

"I dunno," Edmund shrugged. "I guess, it's just something I thought would bring us closer to Dad…"

He trailed off at Elena's less than thrilled expression.

"Now, I'm _definitely_ put off," she said, before walking off, leaving Edmund alone.

Sighing, the boy turned to look at the statue. Most of those who had gone to kneel before it had moved off to do other things, but there was still the single boy kneeling by the statue, a blue katana drawn and placed in supplication at his feet. Edmund went to stand closer to him, before sitting cross legged in front of the statue, staring up at the masked figure of the Revanchist with a soft frown.

"They used to say," the soft, cultured voice of the boy said from next to Edmund, startling him somewhat, "that one could not stare into the face of the Revanchist and be unmoved by the power the man held. They say he was one of the first Silver Eyes, too."

Edmund didn't say anything.

"Of course, since no one knows what he looked like underneath the mask, no one has quite been able to say for sure," the boy added with a wry sprinkle of humour, standing up.

Edmund stood too, though he didn't know why. He still didn't say anything, and the boy seemed content to look up at the masked figure's face once more, before bowing his head.

"I suspect you and I shall meet again at our initiation," he said quietly, "if the universe wills it. Until then."

He walked away, leaving Edmund alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Quinn Kane stood on the balcony of his office on the top floor, an expression of curiosity on his face. Next to him, arms crossed as he stood overlooking the school, was Nox Skye. The latter was in his full black armour set, sans cloak, but he had his intimidating mask on, one built to vaguely resemble that of the Revanchist himself. It had always made Quinn feel like his friend took his life a little too seriously, or at the very least put too much emphasis on certain parts over others.

"So," he said conversationally. "The intake looks to be a mixed group, in a good way. A variety of skillsets and techniques on display."

" **Variety is good,"** Nox Skye said quietly, his voice tinted by the helmet.

Quinn sighed. "I do wish you wouldn't wear that when we're having a conversation. Its effect on the sorts of people you normally fight against is one question. Its effect on the students is quite another."

Skye said nothing for a moment, merely unfolding his arms. He turned away from Quinn, before moving to remove the helmet. There was a soft hiss, and then the dark haired, scarred man turned back to look at Quinn, a scowl on his otherwise handsome face.

"Happy?" he asked sarcastically.

"Ecstatic," Quinn said with a small smile. "I happen to think you don't _need_ that to scare people. Your normal face is surely ugly enough."

"Ha ha," Nox Skye said, snorting. His expression softened. "So - were they there?"

"Yes, they were there," Quinn said, rolling his eyes. "And looking every bit the part of young hunters-to-be, I might add, though I suspect it was all very overwhelming for young Edmund."

Nox said nothing, and Quinn sighed again.

"I've always respected your decisions in your private life," he said quietly. "Enough to not speak about it. But I have to ask - wouldn't they have been happier being here from the beginning?"

"No," Nox said at once. "It was enough for them to be safe at home, protected, where I could teach them myself, before they were old enough to come here."

Quinn raised his eyebrow. "Is that really what she would have wanted for them?"

Nox scowled again. "She's dead. What she wanted, I'll never know. I did what I thought was _right_ , Quinn. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."

Quinn held up a hand to forestall further anger. "I do understand that, my old friend. I meant no disrespect, I promise." He sighed. "And in any case, your children are here now, preparing to go forward with their training."

"Yes," Nox said quietly. "I have faith in them both that they'll do well."

Quinn gave a wry grin. "I hear your daughter certainly managed to do well a few weeks ago. An evening in the cells, wasn't it?"

Nox harrumphed. "My daughter is too much like me for her own good."

"One shudders to think," Quinn said with a snort. "One of you was bad enough."


	3. Chapter Two

**With thanks to RoyalPsycho and MS Void for their assistance on this chapter.**

* * *

 **OBEE**

 **Volume 1**

 **Chapter Two: The Valley of Death.**

* * *

 **September 5th, 1460 of the Vytali Calendar.**

 **Shade Academy, Vacuo.**

 _Well, here I am. Shade Academy._

The sleeping cells were little more than small box rooms with cots in them, repurposed from the days when the Revanchist monks had lived in this place as a temple. The stone walls were dull and grey, and they made Edmund feel like he was boxed in, trapped even.

Unconsciously, his hands went to the weapon he had stored beneath his cot. He pulled it up and looked it over, refamiliarising himself with the lines, the entry point for the clip, the barrel, the retracted blade, the entire thing. Aggressive Negotiation had been his mother's weapon: she had left very little for the twins, but this weapon was his, now. He sighed.

 _Guess it's just good that I've been training with her for a while,_ he thought, putting the weapon back below his cot and sighing. He frowned up at the ceiling, before focusing his aura. He stretched out one hand, trying to focus on bringing Aggressive Negotiation to his side once more… but there was nothing. No rattle of metal, not even the sound of the weapon _twitching_.

"Dammit," he swore. Feeling dejected, he closed his eyes and tried to get to sleep.

Tomorrow, he'd get paired with his partner (knowing his luck, Elena) and his new life would begin. He struggled to find some optimism in that.

* * *

Elena checked and rechecked her weapon's mechanisms, wanting to be absolutely certain that Peacemaker was in peak condition. The spear was, as always, just the tiniest bit sluggish on the switch between rifle and spear mode, and she snorted. It was an intermittent problem, but one that she couldn't for the life of her figure out how to solve.

 _Could just ask Dad,_ she thought with an irritated expression. _Or maybe I could just go walk into a Grimm infested forest and kill everything in a forty mile radius. Might be easier._

She spun the weapon, before closing it into its cylinder form and hooking it back on its belt. She always slept with it still attached to her somewhere, just in case. That was one of the few lessons her father had imparted that she actually stuck with: trust nothing, and trust no one, without having a backup plan.

 _Except tomorrow,_ she thought to herself, _we get our partners and teams. Tomorrow, we have to learn to trust._

She snorted. That wouldn't be a big deal. She'd probably just end up with Edmund - that was how things usually worked out. Then their new life could begin.

* * *

 **The Valley of Death.**

The Valley of Death was the rather lyrical name of a valley about ten miles outside of the city limits. The valley itself was dotted with a variety of ancient statues and other ruins, some of which were truly colossal, all of which had been built from the same dusty brown-yellow sandstone, which also made up the cliffs and rocks of the hills surrounding the valley.

The valley stretched on for hundreds of miles, leading on to the great jungle plateau that encompassed the western edge of the Vacuo Basin. Its entrance was flanked by the wind-worn remains of two enormous statues that were carved in roughly humanoid shapes that were now difficult to make out. The guardian statues stood over the eastern end of the valley, looming over the flat plain in front of them and gazed out over the capital city that had grown up in their shadow.

It was this sight that greeted the students as the transport airship that brought them there slowly touched down, disgorging the students onto the sand.

Edmund took a deep breath as he stepped off of the airship, looking around the place with a frown. He had discarded his poncho, instead going for his simple white training gear, his hand twitching next to the holstered form of Aggressive Negotiation. He looked to his left and saw Elena, her arms folded across her white dress, and Ben Juan nearby, wearing a short military jacket and a different pair of trousers, these ones with a blood-red stripe down both sides. He could see the other students being disgorged as they went, including the boy he had spoken to briefly yesterday (if 'spoken' was the right word), now wearing shoulder armour over his obi.

Edmund found himself wondering just what the initiation entailed. Would they be required to fight Grimm? Or each other? He couldn't help but feel a little edgy - Grimm were one thing, but he was a poor duellist, ill prepared to fighting a skilled human opponent at the best of times, let alone on an impromptu basis.

"Hey, Ed," he heard the voice of his sister speak. She was looking at him with a smirk. " _Chill_."

Edmund snorted, but he smiled back at her. At the very least, he found her presence reassuring.

"So," came the voice of Juan from behind here. "Come here often?"

Elena's smile faded at once, as she turned to look at the older boy with a withering glare. Since he was easily a head taller than her, that was perhaps not the easiest thing to pull off successfully, which might have explained why he simply held up his hands with an amused grin instead of looking suitably intimidated.

"Did you _seriously_ just try a _pickup line_?" she asked incredulously.

"What can I say, Princess?" Juan grinned. "I like to make an impression."

" _What_ did you just call me?!"

Edmund shook his head and walked on - if Juan wanted to piss Elena off, that was his own fault. He could hear their argument get more heated even as he walked off.

Quinn Kane was already waiting by a tall sandy pillar. Next to him was the old man from yesterday, as well as - and Edmund took a sharp intake of breath - Patriarch Nox Skye, the armoured man's faceplate staring out at the group of students like the face of the devils themselves. It was only now, having seen the statue of the original Revanchist, that Edmund appreciated the similarities between his armour and Skye's. The full facial armour, the black cloak that hung from his shoulders, the sheathed form of his blade…

"Students!" Kane called out to the group, shaking Edmund from his train of thought. "Please gather and grant me your attention! Would everyone please grant me their -!"

" _Shove off_!" Elena's voice shouted loudly across the valley. It echoed across the hills like a foghorn.

Many of the students turned, to see her stalking angrily away from Ben Juan, who was simply grinning after her, one hand scratching the back of his head. Elena ended up standing next to Edmund, her expression thunderous. It softened slightly at the sight of Nox Skye, but only slightly.

"When you're ready, Ms Walker?" Kane said, a hint of amusement in his eyes. She snorted, but said nothing. "Thank you." He turned to look at everyone. "As you know - today, you will be initiated into the senior year, and for some of you, this will be your initiation into the school as a whole." He smiled wanly. "This is also the day your partners for the entirety of your senior career will be chosen."

There was a flurry of whispered conversation behind Edmund. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself.

"It'll be ok, bro," Elena whispered. "We'll just be partners."

"You may be wondering how we select partnerships," Kane said. "I'm afraid the process is more complicated than some of you would like."

 _Great,_ Edmund thought with a mental eyeroll. _That is just what I wanted to hear._

"Instead," the headmaster went on, "you will each individually enter the Under-Temple, where you will find your way to the bottom level, the Arena. There you will face your final and greatest test in this initiation. Along the way, you will be required to find an artefact with your partner."

"And how are we supposed to get into a… whatever an Under-Temple is?" Juan asked with folded arms.

"I'm glad that you asked," Quinn said with a smile. "Scattered around the valley, there are enough individual entrances into the Under-Temple for each student. Every student must find their own entrance into the Temple."

Edmund nodded to himself.

"So what about partners?" Elena asked. "You said today was the day we partnered up?"

"It is," Quinn confirmed. "There are many different levels to the temple - but the way it is structured ensures that there are only two entrances to each level, and only one staircase with which to descend through the levels. You and your future partner will each choose an entrance that leads to the same level, and you will meet there."

"So it's randomised?" Juan said irritably. "Is that what you're saying?"

"There is an element of randomness, yes," Quinn said. "But also of fate, if you believe in such things." At Juan's sceptical expression, he chuckled. "All things happen for a reason, so the ancient Revanchists laid down and the faith follows to this day. That being the case, you too will be subjected to the whims of fate, and we shall see what the universe wills for _you_."

A few of the students - especially ones like Juan who were new to Shade - frowned at this. It was all too… arbitrary for them. Juan's expression was cold and irritated, and he wasn't alone.

"I realise this may seem unfair to you," Quinn continued, folding his hands in front of him with a sympathetic expression. "Indeed, I would have agreed with you, at the time I was your age. But not only is this a tradition, an important historical part of the way Shade has operated for many years, but it is important for your development." His expression hardened slightly. "You, my young friends, are the future defenders of the world. Despite Vacuo's… tumultuous politics, huntsmen and soldiers from this illustrious academy have fought in some of the most brutal conflicts of our age, including the Witch War."

Edmund's expression became somber, and he looked at the ground, his mind clouded by thoughts. Would he be called upon for such an age? Maybe - and that was why he was here, wasn't it?

"This will be a test of your ability to work with another, even if you do not know them - or do not _like_ them," Quinn continued, looking to Elena and Juan with a pointed glance. Elena, to her credit, didn't flinch, and the headmaster continued. "You will be called upon to do battle alongside others many times in the future - including those you do not know or like. You must learn to trust others - to have _faith_ in others. If you haven't learned to do that before, you must start _now_."

Elena sighed, quietly enough that only Edmund caught it. He knew she didn't like it, but he didn't say anything to her - what would be the point? Elena had always been… less than brilliant at dealing with things she didn't like.

"Patriarch Skye - would you like to add anything?" Quinn asked the quiet figure.

The armoured man looked at him, before looking out at the students. A few excited whispers could be heard, but there were also some students whose eyes turned away from that expressionless mask, afraid or ashamed, none could tell which.

" **You have chosen a profession which will lead many of you to an early death,"** the Patriarch finally said, his voice tinted by the helmet he wore. " **I will not sugarcoat this. Most of you will not survive to the age and experience myself and the headmaster have, and those that do will likely wish they had not. But make no mistake - the headmaster is correct when he says that you are the line of defence for the world. It is by the blood shed on the battlefields of this world that the innocent are protected. We bring peace, security, justice and freedom to our kingdom."** He paused, looking over them. " **If any of you do not want that responsibility - turn aside** _ **now**_ **."**

No one did.

"You may now seek your entrance," Quinn said, stepping to the side. Skye followed him. Edmund took a breath to steady himself - and then suddenly found himself alone, as the rest of the students dashed past him, each of them seeking their own entryway into the Under-Temple. He blinked, surprised, before locking eyes with Quinn, who was smiling.

"You'd better get after them," he said after a moment.

"I… yes," Edmund agreed, before he, too, dashed off.

* * *

Elena didn't know what she was looking for. All Quinn had said was 'an entranceway', but that could mean anything from some ancient passageway entrance to a modern door they'd installed. The rocks and runs looked entirely too similar to her - all sandstone structures and rocks, statues glaring down with their intimidating masks and, occasionally, their bearded, glowering expressions.

 _Why do all these ancient Revanchists have beards anyway?_ she wondered, but she dismissed it.

Picking her way through the ruins, she leapt up some barely intact steps, bounding across an ancient walkway onto a relatively large plateau, upon which were more structures. She frowned - more of the same, none of it particularly impressive.

 _They couldn't just_ tell _us what it looked like, oh no, that would have been too damn easy!_ she thought furiously as she jogged. _Wouldn't have been the will of the universe, or whatever the hell cock and bull sh-_

She paused in her internal ranting as she saw a small flag poking up from some of the nearby rocks. The flag was green, flapping in the wind almost with gusto, as though it were trying to flap its proverbial heart out despite its small size.

 _I'm anthropomorphising a flag,_ Elena thought to herself, groaning. _Yup. Just like that, this went down Crazy Avenue. Betcha my next stop is Looney Lane, followed closely by the straitjacket store. And this metaphor's stretched a bit thin now._

Shaking her head free of her lyrical thoughts, she walked over to the flag, trying to see what it was marking. To her surprise, there was a large, circular hatch in the ground near it, but it was sealed shut.

 _Is this an entrance?_ Elena wondered. She tapped it, but it didn't move. She reached for the cylinder at her side, but paused, before looking at the flag. It was simple cloth, hung on a metal pole. She frowned, before reaching for the pole.

The minute her hand touched the metal of the pole, the flag rolled up inside of the metal, and a new one sprang out, this one red, and displaying - to Elena's surprise - her name, together with the name _Peacemaker_ , her weapon.

"Huh," she said quietly. "Alright, apparently this is a thing, now."

She looked to the hatch, only to be surprised by the sound of it opening, revealing a tunnel of some description - and no apparent way to descend except dropping straight in. She grimaced - this did not look like her definition of a 'good idea', not at all. And yet, this was probably _the_ entrance for her, now.

"Hell with it," she muttered, before looking into the hole. She closed her eyes, and stepped.

* * *

Ben Juan had drawn his pistol as he jogged, heading for low buildings and outcrops of rock in search of an entranceway. He hated this already: he had never been one for believing in mystical crap or faith in higher powers.

 _Just my luck that the only school in Vacuo that can teach me to be a Huntsman is the place run by the Revs,_ he thought to himself. He stopped by one of the broken pillars of a ruined structure, and subconsciously patted the red stripe on his left thigh, feeling an absurd wave of comfort. _Still: Vacuo or nothing, right?_

He frowned. Inside the structure was a flag, green and empty, next to a metal pole. Juan raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"Aren't we a bit old for 'capture the flag'?" he pondered aloud, before walking up to the thing.

Sure enough, a large round hatch was next to it, embedded in the ground. Juan frowned down at it.

"Well," he said to himself quietly. He looked to the flagpole, the empty green flag almost staring at him. "Now what?"

He stood for a moment, trying to see if there was a mechanism of some kind, but to his irritation it seemed that the hatch was not only sealed, but it had been done so without any form of exterior mechanism. Drawing his pistol, Juan aimed at the hatch and fired once. There was a sudden loud bang, and then he ducked as the round ricocheted off of the hatch and flew into the air.

"Hey!" someone yelled from what might have been thirty or forty feet away. "Is someone firing shots?!"

Juan whistled innocently, reaching out a hand to lean on the flag. Just as he touched it, however, there was the sound of a mechanism, and the hatch opened. The green flag retracted, and a red flag with _Ben Juan_ printed on it above the name _Falcon_ appeared.

"Huh," he grunted, looking down the hatch. There didn't seem to be any way for him to descend, and so with a shrug, he jumped down.

And almost immediately regretted it.

* * *

The way down was slippery, like going down a helter shelter. At the speed it took Elena down she would have ordinarily suffered some friction burns, but fortunately Aura was able to take care of that problem. Still, the ride down was disorienting: there was no light, no way for her to see _anything._

And then, suddenly, she had landed, face first, on dusty ground. She grimaced at the pain of impact, but fortunately her Aura had only been slightly dented. Wherever she was, though, was still pitch black, and she had neglected to bring any means of lighting the way. The only light she had was the light from the tunnel she had just exited, which was reflecting dimly off of a few tiles on the floor.

"Hello?!" she called out. "Is anyone else down here?!"

There was no reply. Groaning, Elena activated her weapon, Peacemaker extending out into its full form. She briefly cursed herself that she had never thought to add a torch to the thing. There was, however, something glinting ahead of her. Feeling foolish, she reached out like a blind man, feeling for what it might be, only to find herself nudging something. All of a sudden, light glinted from a mirror, before bounding like streams of sunlight, reflecting off of a half dozen more, lighting up the entire corridor…

… and revealing a nightmare.

The stone walls were dusty and musty, thick cobwebs hanging off of them. Lining the walls were alcoves, each one containing a suit of armour that looked hauntingly like Nox Skye's Revanchist-inspired battle-armour, right down to the swords many of them had girt at their sides. The entire thing was set off by chains that seemed almost to bind the armour in place.

 _Great,_ Elena thought with a sinking feeling. _This place is hell._ She took a deep breath. _Well, they probably expect us to survive worse before we're done, so buck up, Ells. Let's just find Ed and -_

Her train of thought promptly derailed, crashed, exploded and killed all the occupants as a figure rounded the corner, dressed in an open-necked white shirt, black vest and blue trousers with a blood red stripe down each side.

Ben Juan blinked at her in surprise for a moment, before grinning.

"So, Princess," he asked cockily. "Come _here_ often?"

Elena groaned. _Kill me now._


	4. Chapter Three

**With thanks once more to RoyalPsycho and MS Void for their assistance.**

* * *

 **OBEE**

 **Volume 1**

 **Chapter Three: Grim(m) Catacombs.**

* * *

 **September 5th, 1460 of the Vytali Calendar.**

 **Under-Temple of the Revanchists, the Valley of Death.**

Edmund landed in a heap, groaning at the feeling of hard ground under his head. He opened his eyes, before sitting up with a groan. Aura might protect him from splitting his skull open on a hard floor, but unfortunately it didn't protect him from _feeling_ like he'd split his skull open on a hard floor, which in some respects was almost as bad. He tried looking to see if there was anything around - this effort was somewhat stymied, however, by the fact that there was no light whatsoever to see, except a small pool where he was standing, and a glint of something metallic in the distance.

Edmund frowned, wondering if it was some kind of mirror. He'd seen something of the sort in a movie once, about how underground buildings used mirrors to light up entire rooms from one small light source. At once, Edmund brought Aggressive Negotiation out, considering moving the mirror with a round, but he paused before firing. There was a chance he would damage it, or that his shot would not cause the desired effect.

 _Trial by fire,_ he thought, lowering the weapon and raising his hand. He focused, trying to make it move without touching it… and then, to his surprise, it did. Light bounced from the mirror, before bounding across the room, lighting up the corridor - and the face of the auburn-haired boy from before, looking faintly bemused at Edmund standing there with his hand outstretched. The boy's obi and kimono were dirty, and his armour was scuffed and dusty, as though he had landed about as gracefully as Edmund had. Edmund vaguely wondered how much dirt _he_ had on his clothes.

"Were you trying to move that?" the boy asked, motioning to the mirror.

Edmund lowered his hand shamefacedly. "Uh… yeah. Kinda."

"I see," the boy said thoughtfully. "So… your semblance is telekinesis, then?"

Edmund sighed. "It's _supposed_ to be, yeah."

The boy frowned slightly. "Didn't work?"

"Obviously," Edmund replied, slightly irritable.

The boy winced. "Sorry, is that a sore spot?"

" _Obviously_ ," Edmund repeated, feeling a touch of his sister's usual prickly attitude flaring up in him.

"Ah well," the boy said with a soft smile, but he said nothing more, for which Edmund was grateful. His failures weren't something he enjoyed thinking about.

The other boy's smile faded slightly as he looked around, taking in the dusty suits of armour, chained to the wall as they were.

"I'm certainly glad that we were able to turn the lights on, in any case," he said after a moment. "This doesn't seem the sort of place one should wander around in the dark - certainly not the sort of place one would _want_ to wander around in the dark."

"I… guess not," Edmund agreed, looking around with a frown. " _Is_ there such a thing as a place someone would want to go to in the dark?"

"Oh, I dunno," the boy grinned. "The desert, maybe. It's surprisingly beautiful at night."

Edmund shrugged at that. "What do you think's down here?"

"As to that, I can't say," the boy said with a shrug. He held out a hand. "Obadiah Kane."

Edmund frowned. "Kane, like…?"

"The headmaster, yes," the boy said with a wry smile. "He's my father. And you're Edmund Walker, right?"

"How'd you know that?" Edmund asked.

"I overheard your conversations with Mr Juan, or rather your sister's," Obadiah replied with a shrug. "Actually, I suppose not many people _didn't_ overhear the latter."

Edmund snorted. "She can be… _pretty_ loud."

"Quite," Obadiah said with a small grin. "And Mr Juan certainly seems to have taken a liking to you and your sister."

Edmund couldn't help but smirk at that. "Yeah… not sure Elena's all that happy about that."

"Well, perhaps," Obadiah shrugged. He looked around. "In any case - we've a task ahead of us."

"Yeah," Edmund said, frowning. "Do you know anything about the artefact we're looking for?"

Obadiah shook his head. "You know everything I do. My father's always been rather… tight-lipped about school matters. Not that I blame him - telling me would have provided me with an unfair advantage."

"I guess," Edmund said. He sighed. "Whatever we're looking for, it isn't going to be where we came in though, is it?"

"I suspect not," Obadiah agreed with a slight nod. "It would have helped had we known what we were looking for, but I suspect it will be made clear with patience and perseverance."

Edmund laughed briefly. "I wish I had your confidence."

Obadiah simply smiled. "I got _that_ from patience and perseverance, too."

* * *

Nox Skye kept his arms folded as he watched the monitors they had set up. Most of the partnerships had already formed, and Nox was paying especial attention to those of Elena and Edmund.

"Well?" Quinn's voice drifted over to him, as the headmaster walked over from speaking with another teacher. "How goes it?"

 **"Ben Juan and Elena Walker, Edmund Walker and Obadiah Kane,"** Nox replied blandly. **"Not terrible. Not brilliant,** ** _especially_** **in the case of the Juan boy, but not terrible."**

"I dunno, I think Obadiah will be good for Edmund's confidence," Quinn said with a soft smile. "They seem to be working well, building a good rapport."

 **"We'll see,"** Nox said shortly. **"The Juan boy still concerns me."**

"Why?" Quinn asked, frowning slightly.

 **"You** ** _know_** **why,"** Nox replied, his voice taking on a harsh tinge. **"I do not believe in 'honourable thieves'."**

Quinn sighed. "Well, _I_ think the boy shows potential, or I wouldn't have allowed him entry. You _do_ trust my judgement still, right?"

Nox chuckled, the sound echoing oddly through his helmet speaker. **"Quinn, I say with complete certainty, you may be one of the only people left in Remnant that I** ** _do_** **trust."**

Quinn smiled at that, but before he could say anything else, he was interrupted by a low droning from over the horizon. Turning, he saw an airship coming in to land, bearing military colours.

"One of yours?" the Headmaster asked Nox.

The armoured warrior merely crossed his arms and waited as the airship finalised its landing sequence. A few moments later, a landing ramp descended and an officer in an olive grey uniform approached the two.

"Commander Skye, sir!" the officer said, standing at attention. "We have an urgent report requiring your attention!"

Skye made a lazy hand motion. **"Proceed, Captain Jarrod."**

"A group of isolationists has gathered in one of the Faunus slums, Patriarch," the officer - Jarrod - said. "We believe they may be attempting to prepare an armed insurrection, or a riot."

 **"An** ** _armed_** **insurrection,"** Nox repeated, sounding unimpressed. **"Are they confirmed to have weapons?"**

"Frankly, sir, the reports barely confirm that they're even _there_ ," Jarrod said apologetically. "But we felt you'd wish to know this information."

Nox nodded slowly. **"You were correct, Captain. We shall soon know."** He looked to Quinn. **"My apologies, Headmaster. I must go."**

"Agreed," Quinn said with a nod. "Good luck, my friend."

Nox nodded, and without another word he marched off, Jarrod following with a nervous expression. Quinn watched him stride off, his mouth quirking upward at the side in a bitter smile. Nox Skye, always perennially on the move, fighting to build a better world.

 _I wonder if he'll ever really find it,_ Quinn thought, before turning his attention back to the screens. There was still an initiation to oversee, after all, and it was proving to be most interesting.

* * *

"So, what do you think we're looking for?" Juan asked, as he and Elena made their way down one of the lit corridors. Many of the corridors had mirrors installed in the walls that reflected light - with one mirror in place, light seemed to flood the structure.

Elena sighed irritably. "If you mean the 'artefacts', I don't have a clue."

Juan clucked his tongue. "That's helpful."

"You are _more_ than welcome to suggest anything," Elena said irritably. " _Partner_."

Juan shrugged, ignoring the venom in Elena's tone. "I don't know much about these old temples. I don't think anyone does, outside of people who live in the things."

" _You're_ going to live in Shade, which is practically the same thing," Elena pointed out.

Juan simply shrugged.

"Shade's different," he said without elaborating.

Elena sighed. The temple's corridors were still all lined with the same suits of chained up armour. It did make one wonder precisely what the point of the suits was: as mere decorations, they seemed rather more… _grim_ , for want of a better word, than anything she knew the Revanchist order normally used (from what little she retained from far-too-expensive imported tutors, most of whom had been too busy droning on about Vale or Mistral's great achievements – or, Gods help her, _Atlas_ ' – to give a long-forgotten and long-overlooked piece of Vacuite history the time of day).

"What's with the chains?" Juan asked, echoing her thoughts. He poked one of the suits. "Doesn't exactly add to the look."

"I guess it doesn't," Elena agreed. "But I don't know: maybe it's a representation of how our minds are chains for our bodies and how we can push past our limitations." Juan threw her an incredulous look, and she shrugged. "Read a book once."

Juan snorted. "Guess it's not all that important, anyway." He turned to move away from the suit.

And then an armoured gauntlet grabbed his wrist.

* * *

"What do you think is down here?" Edmund found himself asking as the two boys walked through the corridors.

"Grimm, no doubt," Obadiah replied quietly. "After all, this is meant to be a test of our skills."

Edmund grimaced. "Great. _That's_ something to look forward to."

Obadiah threw him a look. "Sarcasm?"

Edmund sighed. "I'm just not big on fighting Grimm on their home turf. Or at all, come to think of it."

Obadiah raised an eyebrow. "And yet."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Edmund grimaced. "Career options are pretty poor, what can I say? Besides, what with Dad being –" He paused, catching himself. "Dad being in the military, he kinda had expectations."

"I see," Obadiah said, not commenting on the other boy's hesitation. "So it was this or military service?"

"More like, it's this _then_ military service," Edmund chuckled. "Huntsmen training and the new order military aren't exclusive, certainly not after all of Nox Skye's reforms."

Obadiah nodded non-committally. "I see your point."

There was a slightly awkward pause, and Edmund found himself contemplating his new partner. He was seemingly almost lackadaisical, his stance easy, his hand resting idly on the hilt of his extendable katana – and yet Edmund couldn't help but feel as though he was more alert than he let on. He felt his hand twitch on his own weapon.

"You alright?" Obadiah asked without looking at him.

"Yeah," Edmund replied, too quickly. "Just… this place, y'know. Makes me feel… edgy."

"I know what you mean," Obadiah replied. "It's like…"

There was a clang from behind them, and the two boys turned to see something - a dark, humanoid shape - moving behind them.

"Hello?" Edmund called, but the figure didn't answer.

Obadiah frowned, before taking his weapon off of his belt. He extended two fingers out on his left hand and pointed them at the figure in a guard stance.

"Who goes there?!" he called out.

The figure didn't answer for a moment. Then, slowly, it reached for a sword girt at its side and drew it, before pointing it at the two in a sloppy mockery of a challenge.

"What is it?" Edmund asked, drawing Aggressive Negotiation out and aiming it at the figure.

"I don't know," Obadiah said slowly, his own weapon extending out before a pulse of blue energy lit along the entire blade. He held the weapon up one handed, still extending his other hand out, two fingers extended outward in a warding motion.

The figure kept walking towards the two boys, sword still held out in challenge, before bringing it to an equally sloppy two-handed guard above its head.

Suddenly, a bullet ricocheted off of the figure's head, making it stagger. Obadiah glanced at Edmund, who fired again, the figure staggering backward again.

"It's not human," Edmund observed quietly.

Obadiah nodded. "Agreed, but -"

Suddenly he was forced to bring his blade up to guard as the figure lurched forward, its plain metal sword clashing against the plasma-edged blade with a flash of sparks. Obadiah's eyes widened in shock as the figure came into full view - a faceless suit of armour, clanking and clattering as it clumsily swung at him again. He parried the next clumsy blow, but the sheer force drove him back.

"Possession-type!" he snapped out. Edmund stepped back, the sight of the suit of armour shocking him. "Shoot it!"

Edmund nodded quickly, before firing Aggressive Negotiation at the thing's head. It staggered back again, but didn't fall. Obadiah lashed out, the plasma blade carving through the armour, but that only seemed to stun it momentarily before it once again lashed out, making him block again.

"Interesting!" he commented, pushing the armour back again.

"Is that all you can say?!" Edmund said, pumping more rounds into it. It had little effect other than to make the thing stagger backward more.

Obadiah glanced behind them, in the direction they had been going before this thing attacked. "Uh, no."

Edmund frowned at him. "Well?"

Obadiah pointed down the hallway, and Edmund glanced - his heart sank, as he realised that more of the clattering walking armours were blocking the path ahead. Even as he saw that, more armours came from the other way as well.

The two boys were trapped.

* * *

Juan glanced down at the gauntlet with wide eyes, as though its very existence was an impossibility. He tried to pull away, but the thing had a strong grip on his arm.

"Crap!" he swore, bringing his pistol out and shooting at the gauntlet's wrist. The thing jerked and he pulled away, but the entire suit of armour began moving, slowly lurching from its alcove, the chains clattering around it.

Elena had backed away, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of the armour clanking and jerking about like a demented marionette. She brought Peacemaker up, aiming it at the armour and firing in the blink of an eye, but the thing didn't react apart from a brief jerking motion.

"What in the hells is this?!" Juan said, aiming his own pistol.

Elena looked around, her face going pale. "Not alone, for one thing."

Juan looked at her, before looking around them. All of the other armours had started moving as well.

"Well," he said quietly. "Shit."

"Yeah," Elena said quietly. She set Peacemaker into spear configuration. "Can that thing do close combat?"

Juan's pistol clicked, and suddenly it was a cutlass. He raised it into a guard.

"So," he said, trying to sound cheery. "You want the ten on the left…?"

"Shut up and _fight_!" Elena yelled, suddenly charging into the nearest armour.

She brought Peacemaker up in a vicious arc, knocking the thing to the floor, before aiming the other end and firing at the thing, point blank, shattering the helmet. The thing twitched and juddered, before remaining still.

"Aim for the heads!" she called to Juan.

He nodded, bringing his sword up, before retracting the weapon back into pistol form and firing, aiming for the helmets. Unfortunately, they were tough, the rounds pinging off of the rusted metal. Grimacing, Juan kept firing, but the things were moving closer. He dodged one blow, eyes widening at the sword that nearly hit him. Suddenly, Elena charged in, shoving the thing back, before bringing up her weapon and firing it again, blasting the thing's shoulder and head apart.

"Your gun isn't hard-hitting enough," she said with a scowl.

Juan glared right back at her, before stepping back as she moved to engage the rest. More of the things moved forward, and Elena began weaving between them, using Peacemaker to knock them off balance and drive them back. With a frown, Juan reloaded his pistol, choosing a different set of ammo, before aiming his pistol at another armour and firing. This time, his round blasted the armour's head clean apart,and the thing fell to the ground like a stone.

"Better?" he asked Elena with a cocky smirk.

She rolled her eyes as she battled through another one. They were making decent progress, but more of the armours were appearing all the time - and they didn't have unlimited ammunition.


End file.
